


Therapy

by worldtravellingfly



Series: Self Inserts [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon what is canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Needs Therapy, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Panic Attacks, Self Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Traitorous Greenery, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-06-15 13:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15414396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldtravellingfly/pseuds/worldtravellingfly
Summary: Franzi just wanted to enjoy her time off, okay. Drink some tea, read a few nice books. And then SHIELD (metaphorically) knocks on her door.Meanwhile, Bucky Barnes is regaining some control.





	1. The Other Awakens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Other awakens. And The Asset might be ok with compromising. A little bit.

### -1-

 

The Asset froze as The Other commanded it to. Something was important. Had caught their attention.

 

At first, they thought it might have been a smell. Or a noise.

 

But then their wandering eyes lit upon a figure half-hidden in the shadows. She was sitting in the corner of a cafe, reading a book, and sipping some tea occasionally.

 

They _knew_ her.

 

She was tall, taller than most women they could remember, with short, messy hair, and a pair of designer glasses perched on her nose. (How they knew that, they weren’t sure. Must have been important for some sort of mission.)

 

They _knew_ her.

 

By all appearances, they continued their surveillance, staking out the site of yet another murder mission.

 

Their handler must never know.

 

The Asset allowed the Other more freedom, seeking an explanation for who this woman was. She did not seem to be particularly important, nor much of a threat.

 

She was somewhat trained, but the muscles she had were from swimming to the almost certain exclusion of all else. She had not the musculature of an operative, much less a handler. There were scars, but nothing that hinted at combat. Not even an accident.

 

The glasses alone were a risk to herself.

 

Nevertheless, they could hardly steer their attention away from her.

 

 _They knew her_.

 

And perhaps the Asset would have performed as well as usual the next day, would have added yet another name to the growing list of people they had killed in the name of HYDRA and a new world of peace – which the Other inwardly scoffed at – if they had not noticed the woman.

 

But they did. And that changed _everything_.


	2. Call. And Tea.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franzi gets a call. She really just wants that tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended.

### -2-

 

* * *

_A few weeks later_

 

* * *

Franzi blinked as her mobile vibrated.

 

_Unknown caller._

 

She decided to pick it up. Could be important after all. (Could be her _uncle_ too.)

 

“Yes?”

 

“Miss Assman?” A bland voice asked.

 

“It’s _Aßmann_ ,” Franzi muttered before she could stop herself. “But I assume I’m the person you’re after. What can I do for you?”

 

The person on the other end continued as if she hadn’t said anything.

 

“We have a few questions regarding a - situation. Is there a time or place you can agree to meet at?”

 

“No.”

 

A beat of silence.

 

Franzi took a sip of her tea.

 

“Pardon?”

 

The guy sounded mildly confused. Apparently he wasn’t used to being straight off told no.

 

Probably an American.

 

“I don’t know who you are. Or why you’d want to meet me. So, no.”

 

“I’m sorry, this is Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. And we have some questions regarding a highly sensitive case.”

 

Franzi could not stop herself from rolling her eyes.

 

“Since I’m assuming you won’t leave me alone until you have your answers - which, for the record, I’m not sure I can actually provide - you may meet me in the Café Müller by the Alster. Tomorrow, 2 pm, or 14 o’clock, my time.”

 

See, she could cooperate. The ball was squarely in their half of the field now. Or however that saying went.

 

(She knew exactly how it went, but couldn’t be bothered at the moment.)

 

She also couldn’t be bothered as to how they’d make it there on time. Not her problem.

 

Coulson or whoever he was confirmed the time and place and then ended the call.

 

If she had to pay extra for international calls, Franzi would probably kill someone. It wasn’t the money, just the principle of the matter.

 

Well.

 

She finished loading the dish washer, watered her plants, and wondered what - and why - they wanted from her.

###    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think?


	3. Coulson vs. Franzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franzi meets Coulson. Coulson meets a challenge he has not anticipated. Things kind of go from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended.

### -3-

 

The following morning, Franzi dressed in a fitted grey suit, burgundy oxfords, and generally tried her best to evoke the seemingly effortless coolness of Marlene Dietrich.

 

She left her apartment half an hour before the meeting time, walking to the cafe at a leisurely pace. It wasn’t far after all.

 

The sun was shining and there were a lot of people about, locals and tourists alike.

 

She wouldn’t vanish without a trace. Hopefully.

 

The cafe was almost entirely filled to capacity, but Franzi managed to grab an unoccupied table.

 

Outside.

 

Sipping on her chai latte, she watched the people around her from behind her favorite sunglasses. (Perched on her nose, where they belonged.)

 

Exactly at two, on the dot, a man sat down at her table, on the other side.

 

He was like any average office worker: a little pudgy in the middle, with thinning blond hair that looked to also grey. Deep wrinkles, for his guesstimated age, had dug in between his eyebrows, and there were no laugh lines around his mouth.

 

“Miss Aßmann?”

 

He took care to pronounce her name right. _Good_.

 

“Yes. I assume you’re from that unspeakably complicated agency?”

 

He offered her his badge.

 

It looked real enough, as far as she could tell. Which. Franzi had never seen any official badge before, outside of television and movies.

 

According to the attached ID, his name was really Coulson.

 

“Agent Coulson, I am not sure what exactly an American government organization would want from me.”

 

The man didn’t so much as blink.

 

“You might be in danger. There has been an incident.”

 

Her left eyebrow rose under its own volition.

 

“You mean that explosion, in the port? What has that to do with _me_?”

 

Coulson sighed.

 

“We have reason to believe that the same person who set that explosion might be coming after you as well.”

 

Franzi snorted. “Why? What reason could there possibly be?”

 

“We have surveillance footage of that person watching you. Have you ever been involved in any kind of questionable work? Have you been abroad?”

 

“We’re in Europe. Of course I have been abroad. I travel a lot. You might wish to narrow it down. And no, for your information, I have not been involved in ‘questionable work’ before. This meeting is the most questionable thing I’ve ever agreed to do.”

 

“Have you been to Eastern European countries, such as Lithuania? Russia?”

 

Franzi sighed.

 

“I’ve been to Russia, St. Petersburg to be exact. It was a two day trip, to see the city. My grandmother always wanted to go, so I went to honor her memory.”

 

Coulson didn’t look wholly convinced.

 

Obviously, familial love and connections were lost on him. What had she been expecting?

 

“Have you been to the States recently? Specifically the New York and D.C. area?”

 

She snorted. “Not to D. C., no. I’ve been to New York several times. Try to go once a year. I have - family there.”

 

Coulson sat up even straighter. “Family?”

 

“Yeah,” she said, cursing herself. “I visit their graves to make sure everything is well taken care of.”

 

He blinked. Again.

 

“I don’t have any living relatives.”

 

Well. Blatant lie that. She did have blood family out there, but they wouldn’t recognize her and she refused to recognize _them_. It was mutually beneficent. (Well, there was one exception. Because there always was. Not that this Coulson character needed to know the inner workings of their family feuds.)

 

The friendships she still had were more important to her anyway.

 

“Do you know that you look remarkably like your grandmother, Miss Aßmann?”

 

Her grandmother, eh?

 

“I do?”

 

“Yes. You look like a mirror image of herself. Before that unfortunate car accident in ‘61.”

 

Franzi leaned forward, frowning at the man.

 

“Are you _threatening_ me?” She asked coolly.

 

“No, just pointing out something that will have drawn this unwanted attention to you in the first place.”

 

Yeah, right.

 

“You still haven’t mentioned what that actually _means_.”

 

And she would leave soon if he didn’t get to the point in the next five minutes. She’d had enough and her chai latte was already paid for.

 

“We have reason to believe that there is someone out there who was intimately familiar with your family and might be responsible for that - accident. If that is the case, which we believe, you are in incredible danger.”

 

Franzi sighed, eyes closed for a short moment.

 

“And this is where you tell me that you have a safe place for me to stay? Where I can cower away? Witness protection, maybe?”

 

A new man sat down at the table.

 

He was - or appeared, she’d know all about _appearances_ \- younger than Coulson.

 

“We do,” the man said.

 

She’d recognize him, despite the baseball cap and hoodie, sunglasses or not.

 

“Dr. Stark.”

 

“Franziska Aßmann, I love your plays and movies.”

 

“Stark,” Coulson interjected, warning clear in his tone.

 

Franzi decided to ignore him. “Thank you. Why are you here?”

 

“Because Coulson isn’t managing you - record that in the calendar - and there’s people who have placed high stakes on you surviving this. It’s not your fault you’re in this mess, but you’re in it anyway. Can you arrange to pack for at least two weeks and come with us?”

 

She considered them both.

 

They sounded serious enough. This must not be a prank then.

 

“Very well. And once I arrive wherever you plan on stashing me, you will tell me what exactly is going on.”

 

Stark nodded.

 

“Good. I am assuming that you’ll follow me home either way, so come on. It’s not far from here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Franzi Is Not Amused (And Potentially Dead)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franzi meets Steve Rogers. There's some shitty realizations. Someone is probably gonna die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended.

### -4-

 

Franzi packed up everything of value to her, sent a text to her neighbor that she would be on a spontaneous vacation and asked that they check on her plants and forward her the mail as usual, all the while trying to push away a sense of foreboding.

 

They flew to New York in one of Stark’s private jets.

 

Coulson did not come along.

 

She did not know why, but she didn’t care enough to ask. His reasons were his own.

 

Stark mostly communed with his electronics, so Franzi busied herself with her own laptop and phone. Despite it being summer, work had this strange way of piling up when she wasn't looking. Better to keep abreast of everything so it wouldn't overwhelm her later.

 

After several hours, they arrived in a rather _private_ area in the countryside. There was only a large, ultramodern complex. With a landing strip for the freaking jet of course.

 

Anna texted her: _hope you’re not being kidnapped. Text me when you know what the fuck is going on._

 

Franzi promised to do so. Then she slipped her phone into her pocket.

 

Stark led the way inside, mentioning this room or that one.

 

However, not far into the complex, they were greeted by a welcoming committee.

 

Rather abruptly, Stark stopped. “This is Steve Rogers,” he explained, waving to the guy in question. (Who really didn’t need an introduction.)

 

He was hardly easy to overlook; tall, packed with muscles, and exuding a certain excited energy. 

Also dressing like a 90 year old grandpa.

 

She _knew_ him. Now, to show that she recognized him or not?

 

“Good morning,” the man said, eyes fixated on her. Taking her in, from head to toe.

 

“Good morning,” Franzi replied. She offered him her hand to shake. “I’m Franzi Aßmann.”

 

He blinked, blinked again, then took her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Stark rolled his eyes, but it had a good-naturedness about it. “Yes, yes. Now, as to why we brought you here.”

 

He turned around, motioning to a previously clear wall of glass.

 

A bunch of different applications appeared as if on a huge screen, but most important was the video feed in the center.

 

It had been filmed several weeks before - she’d been to one of her favorite cafes in the Portuguese Quarter with a new book. (Anna wrote the best novels.) She remembered because the book had just arrived in the mail that morning.

 

Frowning, she looked closer.

 

Stark helpfully enlarged a section in the corner.

 

At first there was only some part of someone’s t-shirt, of the sleeve of their leather jacket, but they shifted a bit. Then, for some unknown reason, they stared straight into the camera.

 

They _must_ have known where it was. No one avoided the camera forever only to deliberately look into it. That took skill.

 

Skill which was not common among regular people, with nothing to lose by being captured in some random surveillance camera.

 

“Pause this! Can you enlarge that part please?” Franzi leaned forward so far, she'd almost bent in two. (Since Stark hadn't offered her a place to sit.) 

 

That sense of foreboding? It had evolved into a loud klaxon going off in the background, albeit still only in her mind.

 

This. This _couldn’t_ be possible.

 

Stark refrained from saying anything, just doing as she’d asked him to.

 

Franzi swallowed, knees growing weak. She grabbed the first thing she could get a hold of - a chair, thank the stars - and swallowed again. Hard. One hand covering her mouth. Tears were welling up behind her eyelids.

 

This could not be possible. _How_ was this possible?

 

She woodenly accepted the handkerchief someone offered her. Must have been Rogers, because it was fabric. Clearly made for a man, judging by the lack of flower embroidery.

 

“I take it that you know who this is?” Stark asked, stopping the video feed.

 

Oh gods.

 

Franzi closed her eyes, fighting down the bile rising in her throat.

 

Oh _gods_.

 

Rogers pushed over a trash can for her, possibly recognizing the signs.

 

Tears streamed down her face, unacknowledged. There was nothing she could do to stem the emptying of her stomach, except to ride it out.

 

Humiliated, she accepted the glass of water Stark offered her when it was done.

 

Only sympathy and understanding shone in his eyes.

 

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, possibly an eternity later.

 

She took a deep breath, heart still beating wildly. Cold sweat sent shivers down her spine.

 

“Yeah,” Franzi croaked out. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

Both of the men present nodded.

 

“So, you know who this is,” Stark said, tone neutral, but so many questions swirling in his eyes.

 

She nodded. “That,” she motioned blindly to the still of her husband’s face, “is James Buchanan Barnes. There’s no question about it.”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stark and Rogers exchange a quick glance.

 

“How do you know that? I mean he does look spry for his age, but you are much too young to know him. Is he your grandfather?” Rogers pointed out, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest.

 

Her eyes closed, and she took a sip of the water. What to do? What to say... Then, deciding to Hell with this entire drama, she grinned.

 

Gods, Anna and Leonie would kill her  _dead_ for this. So dead.

 

“Not - exactly.”

 

Stark tilted his head, giving her his full attention.

 

Rogers shuffled a bit in the background.

 

Impatient, Stark junior raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”

 

A small smirk began to stretch her lips. If she went out, she wanted to go out in  _style._

 

“Well. If you think _he_ looks good for his age,” Franzi nodded at the picture of Bucky, “then what would you say about _me_?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops? Sorry for the long wait. Have a chapter. It's my birthday and I'm ignoring all my responsibilities.


	5. Franzi is Definitely Not Dead, But Might Be Soon. And Everyone Else As Well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Er, sir, there seems to be a – situation,” the heavily accented voice announced.
> 
>  
> 
> Stark turned to his computer. One of them, in any case.
> 
>  
> 
> “What kind of situation?”
> 
>  
> 
> “A tree seems to have grown in the courtyard, sir.”
> 
>  
> 
> Stark blinked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended.

There was a beat of silence. Both of them stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

 

But Franzi couldn’t stop the smirk on her face, focusing her attention on Rogers.

 

He was meeting her eyes, not flinching or blinking.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Stark interjected.

 

Franzi tilted her head a bit to the side (still ignoring her phone like a champ). “People always tell me I look eerily like my ‘grandmother’.”

 

Rogers lost several shades of white.

 

“You might know her name: Francine A. Barnes. Not exactly a Ginger Rogers or Marilyn Monroe, but still rather well-known.”

 

There was a _beep_ and images filled the screen. All of which depicted Francine in various movies or plays, in magazines and newspaper articles.

 

The most prominent one was about her death, however.

 

No one said anything.

 

Then Rogers walked around her, circling her.

 

“You do look uncannily alike,” he began. “There’s nothing about you that reminds of Bucky.”

 

Franzi nodded. “I’d be surprised if there was. Considering that albeit related, we do not share blood.”

 

For a moment, Stark paced back and forth.

 

Steve stared at her as if he was seeing a real life ghost.

 

Oh, her kingdom for a camera!

 

“Have you heard about Charles Xavier, Dr. Stark? He runs a school for children that are a bit _different_ than most others. That have unique talents.”

 

This whole misleading thing? So much fun. Was this why the wise people in stories always spoke in riddles?

 

Franzi was enjoying herself. Probably a bit too much.

 

“Facial match: 99,99%,” a heavily accented voice announced into the silence.

 

“That’s just because the quality of the pictures is subpar,” Franzi said, grinning. “It should be 100%.”

 

Both of the men were staring at her again.

 

Stark sat down across from her. “How is this possible?”

 

“I suppose I am what you’d call a mutant. I have a healing factor,” Franzi shrugged. “It’s a bit of a nuisance. But at least I’m saving myself the lifts and liposuctions.”

 

Steve blinked.

 

Then Stark began to laugh.

 

“Brooklyn, eh,” Steve muttered in his thickest accent.

 

Franzi grinned, sitting up properly from her slouch.

 

“Tha’ thing ‘bout tha Giants were a real travesty,” she replied, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Wish ya coulda been tha, showin’ them wha’ foah.”

 

“So, this sounds incredibly Brooklyn Heights-ish,” Stark said. “I’m assuming that healing factor you’ve mentioned made it impossible for you to age beyond a certain point? So, you faked your death?”

 

Franzi nodded. “Yep. Something told me it was time to go.”

 

What was an assassination attempt between friends?

 

(A great early warning system.)

 

“Now I know who’d like to see me six feet under.”

 

“And who would that be?”

 

She nodded to the still of her husband. “Whoever had him. By removing me, they’d remove just one more obstacle from retaining control over him.”

 

The stinging, the one in her eyes, increased.

 

Oh gods. What Bucky must have suffered the last few decades!

 

And why hadn’t he changed, appearance-wise, in the last 60? 70 years?

 

He’d grown out his hair, sure, but he did hardly look his age. Neither did Steve, who somehow survived being deep frozen for over half a century.

 

Whoever had him, they must have done something to Bucky. To keep him from escaping at the first opportunity. To keep him under their thumb.

 

“So. You’re his – wife? I’m assuming,” Stark asked.

 

Franzi tried to summon a smile. “Yep. Got married when we were 18 years old. His family wasn’t enchanted with that idea. Thought he could do so much better than a penniless actress with nothing to recommend her.”

 

Finally, Steve seemed to rejoin the living (instead of the zombies among them). He snorted. “Ya were both full young.”

 

She shrugged. “True. But we were happy. Even though we were often separated when I was filming or on tour with one play or another. Bucky supported me.”

 

“How did no one know you were married? The paps must have been much more respectful way back when.”

 

This time, Franzi snorted. “I wish. They weren’t as bad as they’re now, but you still had to keep an eye out. No, my management ordered me to say I was single and to dye my hair brown. I had to pretend to be in relationships with a few co-stars to promote our movie. It was very tedious.”

 

Bucky had been hurt by the whole dog and pony show too. To clarify: he’d _never_ mistrusted her, but having to watch his wife out in public with another man?

 

Certainly not an easy thing to endure.

 

“Well, that explains why you weren’t seen for a year or so after the war,” Stark mused.

 

Steve frowned at her. “What? You went AWOL for a year?”

 

Franzi rolled her eyes. “Nah. I moved to Paris after the war. Took a break.”

 

Which was true. Just not the whole truth.

 

They might have known each other when they were stupid kids, but this version of Steve Rogers? Might as well have been a stranger.

 

“Lived with my best friend. Do you remember Anna, Steve? Or do you require another metaphorical brick to the head?”

 

He smiled, somewhat weakly, but shook it no. “I’m good, thanks. Wasn’t she the one that fled from the Nazis in Norway with her family?”

 

“The exact same one,” Franzi confirmed.

 

There was a beat, wherein no one really knew what to say to that.

 

“Er, sir, there seems to be a – situation,” the heavily accented voice announced.

 

Stark turned to his computer. One of them, in any case.

 

“What kind of situation?”

 

“A tree seems to have grown in the courtyard, sir.”

 

Stark blinked.

 

Oh gods, Leonie and Anna were gonna end her, _shit_. Franzi should most definitely have answered her phone earlier. Oh _fuck_. They would kill her.

 

Depending on how worried they were, they might manage to make it stick too.

 

“JARVIS?” Stark repeated, hands already flying over the keyboard.

 

“It grew within 3.5 seconds.”

 

Steve blinked. “That’s not normal, is it?”

 

“No,” Stark replied, tapping away faster on his keyboard.

 

Now, how to explain that the tree growing this fast was in fact perfectly normal? And that they were all going to die?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait and the cliffie! Hope you like this new chapter!


	6. The Cavelry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cavelry arrives. A few things are revealed. Offers to walk on water are once again refused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended, as always.

### -6-

 

“Erm,” Franzi began. “That’s the cavalry.”

 

Stark looked ready to shake her.

 

Steve wasn’t far behind.

 

“My best friends. They’re probably worried about me. I should go greet them.” _Before they knock down the door. And potentially the compound._

 

Franzi got up, walking with false calm towards the entrance.

 

Steve and Stark followed after her. Neither of them said anything, however.

 

Was this building always so silent?

 

Just as she opened the door, someone knocked on it.

 

Oh gods, they’d come in their battle outfits.

 

Franzi was really in for it.

 

Leonie took her in, then allowed the wooden armor to recede back to wherever it came from. Along with most of the vines which moved like tentacles, lazily billowing behind her.

 

Anna spared a moment to glare at the two men, then hugged Franzi tightly.

 

“What is going on?”

 

It wasn’t exactly a question. More like a demand.

 

“Ladies, why don’t we go inside?” Stark intervened.

 

Leonie – who was staring at him out of the corner of her eyes and probably thought no one had noticed – nodded.

 

So, Anna dragged Franzi along.

 

That’s usually how their (mis)adventures started too.

 

This time, Stark led them to a sleek, modern living room.

 

Before she could so much as open her mouth, Leo and Anna pushed her onto the three-seater, smack in the middle.

 

“Now then. Explanations,” Leonie clapped her hands.

 

Franzi sighed. She still had trouble believing what she’d seen with her own two eyes.

 

“Told you that someone was after me again, right? And apparently that someone is my dead hubby. Who, as it turns out, isn’t quite as dead as _everyone_ told me.”

 

Anna immediately snuck an arm around her shoulders. “Bucky is alive?”

 

Franzi bit her lip, but nodded.

 

“We have surveillance footage,” Stark confirmed. “Rogers here identified him first.”

 

Leonie joined the hug fest. “That’s fucked up.”

 

Franzi couldn’t quite suppress the sob/laugh combo. “Yeah. And we still don’t know what the hell they’ve done to him.”

 

Anna growled. It sounded rather wolf-ish. “How did you notice him? I’m assuming that no one’s been aware he was still alive after all this time.”

 

Stark cleared his throat.

 

But Steve beat him to the punch: “Apparently, he’s some sort of ghost. The sneaks didn’t believe he was real. They’ve used him as an assassin, presumably against his will.”

 

Anna, Leonie, and Franzi exchanged a _look_. They’d talk later, with less of an audience.

 

“Why exactly did you bring Franzi here?” Anna asked, staring at the two men.

 

Stark sighed. “It’s for her safety. He definitely knows her – _recognized_ her. Depending on his state of mind, this could end very bloody. Husband or not, your boy has a long list of kills attached to his name. And I doubt he’d forgive himself for adding you to that list.”

 

Which was true enough.

 

“What else do you have on the hubby?” Leonie continued.

 

She was the only one who’d never met him.

 

Unfortunately, Bucky had already been declared MIA – likely dead – when they’d found each other again.

 

Stark and Steve exchanged another glance.

 

“Just spit it out.”

 

“Someone delivered this to us. We don’t know who,” Stark cautioned.

 

Franzi had her own suspicions.

 

“But it was highly classified information. It appears as if HYDRA survived the war and is alive and kicking.”

 

“ _They’re_ the ones who have him?” Franzi asked, anger almost boiling over.

 

Anna’s hold on her tightened. As did Leonie’s.

 

“Yes, it seems that way.”

 

She pressed her eyes closed, wondering what Bucky had done in another life to have been stuck in this mess. He certainly did not deserve it.

 

“Calm down, Ace. We’ll find him,” Leonie whispered.

 

Franzi nodded jerkily.

 

“So. Your information? He killed a bunch of people.”

 

“Including my parents.”

 

Could this get any worse?

 

“Our condolences,” Anna replied, more _there_ than Franzi.

 

In response, Stark nodded. “There was information about a number of HYDRA bases, as well as handlers. And who leads this organization. Information on highly ranked traitors.”

 

Leonie blew out her breath, hair flying up. “And you thought the best solution was to stash Franzi _here_?”

 

Anna had returned to glaring.

 

Overprotective friends for the win.

 

“It’s fine. I’m pretty sure whoever left that information was counting on them doing exactly that. Why else include that surveillance footage?” Franzi pointed out, rubbing her forehead.

 

Stark clapped. “So, that whole plant thing was pretty cool. I’m a big fan of armor. How does it work?”

 

Leonie, obviously flustered, twitched. “It’s my – _thing_.”

 

Oh no. If there was one thing neither of the two best friends she’d ever had enjoyed, it was talking about their abilities right off the bat.

 

Well, Franzi was already in for a pound, she might as well take the entire jackpot. “Yep. I’m the boring one. These two have all the cool tricks.”

 

“Pfft,” both of her friends said at the same time, rolling their eyes.

 

Franzi didn’t need to see it to know it was happening.

 

“You’re like a modern Aceso,” Anna pointed out. “And you _still_ refuse our offers to let you walk on water.”

 

“Your generosity and kindness are appreciated, but I am tired of health sandals and wearing blankets. So last season.”

 

Stark grinned, but Steve had moved on to frowning.

 

Oh no, the Eyebrows of Disappointment. How would she ever survive?

 

“When did this ability manifest? Did Bucky know?”

 

 _There_ came the guilt trip.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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